I was going to write a lengthy introduction and explain why I'm starting a weblog. Please. As if I need to justify being self-congratulating and narcissistic. On to the details.

This weekend I went to Ft. Worth to visit Molly. I was set to leave at exactly 12:30 in the afternoon on Friday to beat Texas traffic, but the peon at Quail Creek Bank, with which I've had the same savings account since I could crawl, asked for two forms of ID before he'd shell out MY cash. I glared, sighed and obliged. I'm sure my contempt crawled through the deposit shaft and hopefully lodged that stick farther up his ass. When I told Molly, whose new BMW is disgustingly beautiful, she said, "I would have asked, 'Do you know what I drive?'" Logic is, of course, Molly's strong suit.

Her ability to milk money from her father never ceases to amaze and amuse me. I decided to combat her financial dependence with a few monetary misgivings of my own. We went to some middle class mall in Ft. Worth. While Molly had her hair cut and highlighted, I spent a non-impressive $350 at Banana Republic and bought some Bed Head products at the hair place. I also got a cut. Short. Spiky. WB. Just the way I like it.

Molly and I paid homage to the social scene in Greenville, a thriving oasis for Dallas' sexy and single. As usual, Molly and I looked like hot sex. To prepare, we spent the day in the sun, and my new Banana Republic shirt (hopefully) looked good enough to rip off of my well-toned physique. But, alas, all I got were a few desparate looks from some of the cows grazing the clubs.

I left Ft. Worth yesterday and drove to Dallas. I hate driving on interstates because I'm paranoid that every car on the road is out to race me, and I always end up speeding. I won the race without a ticket. Once I got to Dallas, I met up with my aunt and uncle, who treated me to Sunday brunch at the prestigious Dallas Athletic Club. I've grown up on country club lunches and dinners, and I don't see how I survived four years in Missouri without them (Okay, so "grown up on" might be an overstatement).

Speaking of Mizzou, mom had my graduation pictures developed. Graduation, college and Columbia all seem like distant memories. I wasn't sad to leave. I didn't say many goodbyes. I just left. The thought of never returning to Columbia doesn't really phase me. I'm pretty set on getting to Los Angeles and pursuing the film career I've been dreaming of all my life. I'm ready to be around people with similar interests who don't judge people just because of how they speak and dress. Just thinking about my college experience makes me bitter and angry. I guess I really do hate the Midwest.

To circumvent those hostile feelings, I'll give the dish about today. I went by the Red Rock Canyon Grill and got myself a job waiting tables. I have more than 75 dinner entrees and 15 names to memorize before I can officially start work. I guess I'm not completely finished with flash cards just yet. Then I drove to Penn Square Mall and paid my respects to the new J. Crew. With only a pair of khaki chinos, I left the mall parking lot with very minor damage done to the Master Card.

Tonight I'm having dinner and drinks with Tricia. I haven't seen her since she was gracious enough to visit Columbia in March. I can't wait to resume our gibberish and dreamy banter. Of course I'm still mortified that Tricia knows I had a crush on her in 7th grade. We shared an orthodontist, and so much more...

I'm so excited about tomorrow night's Real World episode, I can hardly sit still. Thank God for Theo. Tonya's hypocrisy and hypochondria must end. Back to Walla Walla!